


Narcissism

by gimmefire



Series: Narcissism [1]
Category: Green Day, The Network
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Narcissism, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-02-23
Updated: 2005-02-23
Packaged: 2017-12-04 00:09:46
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,423
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/704234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gimmefire/pseuds/gimmefire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"It's him I want to talk to. Attention seeking little whore." Billie narrowed his eyes at the face obscured by a striped ski mask. "Fink. I'll 'Black Hawk' that guy's ass into the fucking ground."</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Narcissism

**Nar•cis•sism, n.**  
 _1\. self-admiration: excessive self-admiration and self-centeredness.  
2\. In psychoanalytic theory, emphasis is placed on the element of self-directed sexual desire in the condition. _

"They've been at it again." Mike said gravely.

Billie raised his head, eyebrows raised curiously, before his expression grew serious.

"They have?" he asked in a low voice.

Mike merely nodded, holding up a few sheets of paper before dropping them in front of Billie. The black haired frontman picked them up, reclining in his chair and scanning over the words in front of him. Mike saw the frown appear and intensify on his face as he progressed. He scowled upon reaching the end, throwing the papers down contemptuously.

"Fuckers!" he hissed in part-disbelief, folding his arms.

"Are you sure there's nothing you can do?" Mike asked, sitting opposite him.

Billie shrugged hopelessly.

"I'd fuckin' like to, but…contract. I can't tear it up without good reason."

"And talking shit about us, our band - your band - isn't a good enough reason?"

"Apparently not, not in the eyes of the law, anyhow." Billie grumbled. "Besides, they might be assholes, but they're a good band. I don't wanna lose that. Fuckers." He shook his head and thought.

"Yeah, that's true. And there is a kinda skinny, rugged appeal about that Van Gough guy…" Mike mused. A few seconds of thought passed. "I think I might send them a vexed e-mail."

Billie chuckled.

"Oh yeah. That'll learn 'em." he chewed his lip. "Wonder when they're playing…" He murmured aloud, getting up and walking to his desk, shuffling through some papers. He pulled out one sheet and looked it over. "November 22nd…they got that big mysterious show thing lined up in LA. That's only a couple days away."

"You gonna go?"

"I think I might." Billie replied, walking back over and placing the paper in front of Mike, tapping a picture near the top. "It's him I want to talk to. Dr. Svengali may be their manager, but _he's_ the ringleader, he's the boss. I can tell. Attention seeking little whore." Billie narrowed his eyes at the face obscured by a striped ski mask.  
"Fink. I'll 'Black Hawk' that guy's ass into the fucking ground." he vowed.

 

_A few days later…_

Fink stood in front of the dressing room mirror, straightening his vinyl jacket. He heard some hushed commotion outside before the door opened. Van Gough leaned in.

"Guess who showed up?" he said slyly.

Fink looked around instantly.

"Not…Liza?" he breathed in disbelief.

Van Gough shook his head. Despite the bandages, you could tell he looked smug.

"Better."

Fink looked at him, nonplussed. There's no such thing as better than Liza. Van Gough grinned.

"Mr. Green Day."

Fink raised his eyebrows.

"Ohhhh." he said in surprise. "Well, well. What do you suppose we do?"

"He's probably pissed about what we said about his silly band." Van Gough shrugged. "Maybe we should be careful."

"Maybe. Or maybe we should give him a show." Fink mused, hand on hip and eyes raised to the ceiling in thought. Then he added under his breath, "Maybe I should give him a show."

"You have an idea?"

Fink smiled. It was the kind of smile you would expect a Trapdoor Spider to wear just before diving out of nowhere and dragging some poor insect to its doom.

"I believe I do." he replied silkily.

 

Billie stood at the very back of the relatively small venue, so far remaining undetected by the fans that had gathered, huddling as close to the stage as possible. He stayed in the shadows, beanie hat pulled low, seeing kids pass by in Green Day shirts, too many for his liking.

 _How the fuck can they think I'M in this band?_ he hissed inwardly. _Sure, I did 'em a favour, let 'em sample me talking for that Spike thing, but…they didn't credit me, and now everybody thinks…_

He growled, then quickly shut up as people started gathering closer to him, still not seeing him but close enough to make him wary of being discovered. He shrunk back a little further, then realised he was almost certainly going to be spotted, sooner rather than later. So, he scooted himself along to the side and spotted a little staircase that lead to backstage. He took a breath, then scurried through the crowd, brushing past people and keeping his head low. He reached the staircase, and a bouncer that looked twice his size in every respect looked down at him coolly. Billie glanced around nervously, then lifted the rim of his hat up to reveal his eyes.

"Label boss." he hissed.

The bouncer squinted down at him, then raised his eyebrows in recognition and stepped aside. Billie scampered gratefully through. Good timing - the lights shut off and screamed cheers could be heard from the audience. Billie slotted himself at the side of the stage and waited. A screen lit up at the back of the stage, pink and white circles dilating hypnotically. Dr. Svengali's face appeared, flickering and jerking, affected with heavy static. As he preached to the converted, Billie watched and couldn't help curling his lip contemptuously.

'Pretentious fucking…' he thought, but stopped abruptly as his eyes caught something glinting over the other side of the stage. Focussing fully on it, he saw a red suit catch the light, pink white pink white rolling over it, lighting it up like some kind of living neon sign. His eyes raised, and he found his gaze met by two heavily made-up eyes. Billie blinked, and finally realised he was staring at Fink, who was staring fearlessly back at him. A positively evil smile was spread over his black lips, and he raised a gloved hand to give a patronising little wave. Billie gritted his teeth, but could think of nothing else to do except stare back. Subconsciously, he thought the lights were hypnotising him. He wasn't far wrong - they definitely helped.

Fink continued to grin smugly at him, and after a few moments of basking in Billie's dumb stare, he puckered his lips and blew a kiss out towards him. Billie flinched like he's been slapped, and an incredulous scowl crossed his face.  
What the fuck…?

Then the screen lights died and the cheering intensified. The stage lights went up, and the band were onstage. Billie blinked, momentarily bewildered, then turned his eyes to Fink again. Front centre already, twitching and gyrating. _Attention seeking little whore._ Billie tightly folded his arms and scowled. _Even looking at him pisses me off. With that smug, self-loving, grandstanding attitude…goddamn it…_

_Who does he think he is, **me**?_

As the show progressed, Billie became more and more indignant and incensed. Seeing Fink wobble and ripple, hands in the air, flickering and convulsing like he was wearing electric panties. And then…a phone ringing could be heard over the noise, and Fink wrapped his hand around the microphone, launching into Spike. Billie listened in disbelief. Fink knew he was there, knew he was the one who'd done the speaking part on this track for the album. So what does that demon-suited little fucker do? He takes the speaking part and whines his way through it, clearly - to use a British term - taking the piss. And Billie was furious.

_He's trying to get to me, he knows I'm here, he knows why I'm here…_

_Motherfucker._

Billie shrank back into the shadows, arms still folded, head low, glaring. _You just wait…_

 

After the show, the band stood backstage, clinking champagne glasses and grinning at each other in triumph.

"So, do you think Mr. Green Day was annoyed?" Van Gough asked slyly.

"I do hope so." Fink replied, swirling his drink. "Did you all like Spike?"

Chuckles emitted from his multi-coloured bandmates.

"I saw him - he looked like he was turning into Tim Armstrong, all scowl and arms." The Snoo said, amusement colouring his thick Mexican accent. "Only shorter and not so many muscles."

Fink smiled, radiating smugness. He posed in a most hilariously Billie-like way.

"I didn't call for a shitty conversation!" he whined, like Billie on helium. "EHHH-OH!"

"EHH-OH!" His bandmates called back, before collapsing in hysterics.

Billie heard all this from the other side of the dressing room door. He growled and grabbed the door handle, swinging the door open.

"HEY!" he barked, and the assembled turned their heads to see him in the doorway, amused grins on their faces. He glared at Fink. "I think you and me need to talk."

The rest of the band chuckled, and Billie stepped aside as they filtered out. He had to slap The Snoo's hands away as they grabbed for his crotch on the way past. He shot back a look of disgust as the door closed, before turning to face Fink.

Fink and Billie. Mano y mano. Face to face.

Fink raised his glass towards Billie.

"Champagne?" he offered coolly.

"Where do you get off talking all this shit about my band?" Billie accused, ignoring the offer completely, arms still folded. "I signed you. I gave you the chance to make it over here, and you throw it back in my face like this? Who the fuck do you think you are?"

Fink blinked and tilted his head, fake-bemusement all over his face.

"Throw it back in your face?" he echoed. "I'm doing no such thing. I'm very grateful for the label and all you've done. All I'm doing is using you and your support to get the success and adoration we need to ascend to the top of every chart. Then the Church of Lushtology will become the most powerful, megalomaniacal religion in the world. It's the 'bigger than Jesus' thing, you see." Fink paused to sip at his champagne. "Plus I just don't like your band."

Billie stared at him, mouth open. He could think of nothing to say. Fink looked him up and down.

"You're turning into Timmy, babe." he said, turning away. "It doesn't suit you."

Billie spluttered for a few seconds, stunned by the sheer brazen attitude of this Fink. Totally unapologetic, and verging on rude - it was unbelievable. Fink walked over to the dressing table, setting his glass down and beginning to pack away his make-up, swaying from side to side a little to some mental jukebox. Billie just stared at his back, trying to quell his rage so he could form a coherent thought. He looked down to see the devil's tail hanging from Finks pants swinging from side to side. It held his attention. The idea of hypnotism echoed into his head again as he watched it. He found his eyes raising a little and settling where the tail met the pants. Fink's eyes raised and looked in the mirror in front of him, seeing Billie staring at his butt. A smile appeared on his face, inherently sinful, and he continued to slowly pack away his things.

"There's a camera in my bag. Knock yourself out." he said calmly.

Billie blinked, then finally realised what he was doing. He shook his head and looked down, a blush blooming over his cheeks. He heard Fink chuckle filthily.

"Look, just…" Billie huffed, not looking up. "I like your band, I think you're good. Just knock it off with the shit-talking, ok?"

When he did look up, he started on seeing Fink a few feet in front of him. The blush wouldn't leave his cheeks as he stared at the devil-suited being warily. The smile on his face told Billie he knew exactly what was going on all the time. And, whether Billie liked it or not, that he was going to be able to orchestrate exactly what he wanted to happen with great ease - whatever that may be. Which kinda scared Billie a little bit.

"I don't think I can promise that, I'm afraid." Fink replied.

Billie looked indignant again.

"Fine. Whatever. You keep doing your thing, I'll keep doing mine. All I'll say is fucking bring it on." he said, and turned to leave.

"Wait a second, wait a second!" Fink said. Billie removed his hand from the door handle and turned around. Almost made it. What does this freak want now?

He turned to see Fink squinting curiously at him. Billie felt extremely self conscious suddenly. Finks eyes raised to Billie's beanie hat, then his hand followed suit. Before Billie could grab for it, Fink took hold of it and pulled it off, tossing it across the room.

"Hey!!" Billie exclaimed, hands clapping over his unkempt hair. Fink grinned.

"That's better. I can see you now." he reached up and pushed Billie's hands away, ruffling his hair slightly.

"Were you even listening to me?" Billie asked, arms hanging limp and helpless as Fink adjusted his hair.

"Remind me, sweetcake." Fink said, still fiddling, but now looking at him directly.

Fink was now uncomfortably close, and those big, heavily made-up hazel eyes were unnerving and enthralling him at the same time. He took a breath and kept his resolve.

"I said…you keep doing your thing, I'll keep doing mine. Fucking…bring it on." he said, voice distinctly less bold than before.

Fink paused in his activities.

"Okay." he replied simply.

His hands cupped the back of Billie's head and he leaned in even closer, planting a kiss on his lips. Billie's eyes widened impossibly, and a few seconds passed before he pushed Fink back.

"What the fuck are you doing?!" he gasped.

"Bringing it on." Fink replied, not letting himself be pushed too far back, hands still at the back of Billie's head.

"Not what I meant!" Billie exclaimed, back now pressed against the door.

"Oh, come on. You like the men." Fink said, smirking. "You like the Fink."

Billie struggled to find an argument.

"I-I'm supposed to be mad at you…" he damn near whimpered, confusion reigning in his head.

"I know." Fink sighed, a hint of frustration in his tone. His voice dropped to a silky murmur. His hands slipped down and rested against the sides of Billie's neck. "And I am trying to be nice to you. To apologise for the shit-talking." he paused, seeing Billie relax a little. His voice dropped even quieter. "I would like to make out with you. You're pretty, and I think it would be rude for me not to kiss you. And do other lovely things to you. I'm sure you'd enjoy it."

Fink waited for Billie to reply. He opened his mouth for a moment, then closed it.

_How fucking…what…how presumptuous is this guy? He just assumes I'm okay with this? Just because I…'like the men', he thinks he can…obnoxious little attention whore…_

He paused in his outraged thoughts for a moment.

_Jesus, he really does think he's me._

_I kinda like that._

Billie blinked, still pretty confused. He exhaled and shook his head, a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Bring it on." he relented, shrugging.

That sinful little grin appeared on Fink's face again. Then he moved close again, pressing his lips against Billie's. Billie gave no resistance this time, only feeling a little bit weird but very curious. He kissed back, deep, intense and slow, pleased that he could feel Fink smiling. The fabric of Fink's ski mask brushed against his cheek, and their tongues met and moved elegantly over each other, and faintly Billie thought that Fink tasted quite familiar. He also thought that this was quite an odd situation he was now in. He felt Fink's tongue explore and lick at different places in his mouth, heard him chuckle quietly, felt his fingers in his hair.

Not what he was expecting when he stormed down here.

But oh well.

Billie rested his hands on Fink's hips, pulling him close and kissing him harder. He moaned quietly, Fink's voice joining his in expressing his approval. After a few more moments, Fink broke away, continually drifting close, teasing Billie with breathy little barely-there kisses. A smile crossed his face. Billie barely even noticed Fink's busy hands, unzipping his jacket and playing over his t-shirt. He did notice, however, when Fink took hold of his unzipped jacket and pulled his sharply forward, stepping backwards himself. The red-suited being kept eye contact with Billie the whole time, swinging him round and damn near throwing him backwards onto the couch. Billie settled back, well aware he had absolutely no control over the situation, and unusually, he didn't care. He smiled almost wolfishly up at Fink as he lay back on his elbows. He saw his lipstick was a little more imperfect than before. They regarded each other with an odd kind of respect. And not a little lust.

Fink slid onto the couch, on his knees and looking down at Billie. He paused for a second, licking at the corner of his mouth at some faint taste, then descended to kiss Billie again. This time, as he did, he unbuttoned Billie's trousers with alarming ease and slid them down just enough. Billie himself felt all of this happen, and still didn't feel the acrid desire to shove Fink backwards onto his presumptuous ass and have him sued for attempted rape. No, this felt right. Not in a 'in love, this is the moment' kind of way. Just…it didn't feel wrong. And, despite the fact he was married with kids, it didn't feel like cheating. He couldn't decide if it felt like he'd done this before, or if it was some weird sense of familiarity he had with Fink in general, but it definitely didn't feel like cheating.

He probably would have tried to figure it out, but on seeing Fink's nimble fingers draw back to his own trousers, undoing them with equal speed, his eyes widened and he caught his breath. A final definitive thought crossed his mind.

_I am gonna have some sex right now…_

Then he saw Fink's hand move again, and he let himself lie back fully. He had an inkling of what was coming barely a second before it actually did. His fingers dug into the couch beneath him and he instinctively raised his legs a little as a finger was plunged unashamedly inside him, swiftly followed by another. Billie grunted and winced for a few seconds, and felt Fink pause, waiting for him to adjust. He felt Fink's free hand trail over his stomach, and he opened his eyes. Fink rested his head against Billie's knee and gave that evil little grin again, before glancing down and pushing another finger into the now as good as helpless guitarist. Billie opened his mouth in a silent moan, and he felt the pit of his stomach ache. He heard Fink speak.

"Hold on, sweetcake."

A second or two of odd stillness passed between feeling Fink withdrawing his fingers and feeling his dick against his entrance. Then he pushed into Billie, slow and careful. Billie shifted and arched, bringing his knees up towards his chest and letting out a moan that increased in volume as Fink moved further and further inside him. His nerves began tingling all the way up his body, and as the pain increased, the pleasure intensified. When the moment came that it felt like the pain outweighed the pleasure, Billie opened his mouth to ask - hell, maybe even beg - for Fink to ease up a little. But, oddly, before he could, Fink stopped. And waited. As he did, his hands roamed over Billie's exposed stomach and thighs, seemingly busying themselves of their own accord. Billie took a few breaths, then attempted to speak.

"Could you…could you, uh…" Not only was it an embarrassing thing to ask, but he was trying to think with a mind already addled with desire. Before he could form the words, Fink shifted and pulled out of him abruptly. Billie looked down to see him digging in his bag quickly, and pulling out a tube within moments. Billie looked from it to Fink.

"How did you…?"

"Shh." Fink soothed. "Don't let it trouble you."

Billie blinked at the odd comment, and wondered to what exactly Fink was really referring. The whole situation, the fact that neither of them found this weird, or just…

"Ah! Ahh!" Billie exclaimed involuntarily, back arching. Lubricant was a fucking Godsend sometimes.

Fink resumed the slow penetration of before, seeing no grimaces of pain on Billie's face this time. He smiled, and began his rhythm.

Billie tilted his head back, revelling in each new wave of pleasure that rolled into him. And they did, with overwhelming speed and intensity. He moved his legs this way and that, trying to get that perfect position, trying to encourage Fink to shift into that perfect position. All he could verbally muster was a noise between a whine and a grunt. Fink paused, then removed his hands from around Billie's ass and took hold of his legs, encouraging them to bend a certain way. Billie kept his eyes shut as he felt Fink's hands return to their previous place. He didn't know what he was doing, but whatever it…

Suddenly Billie gasped, then let out a deep, sensual moan from the very pit of his stomach. Then he shivered hard a few times, feeling Fink catch the spot deep within him. And, although his eyes were closed, he was almost certain that Fink was smiling.

As Fink continued his gentle thrusting rhythm, he bent forward slightly, making Billie yelp and curl his toes so hard he damn near got cramp. Billie's head lolled to the side helplessly, each rolling thrust into him now eliciting a yelp as he prayed inwardly for this never to stop.

_Oh God, I'm so close already…and we've barely been going for three minutes…_

_He knows…exactly what to do with me, exactly where it feels the best…I wish I cared enough to try and figure it out, but…_

Fink's thrusts became harder, sending Billie's mind into a tailspin. He was very vaguely aware that he was now almost squealing with carnal delight, His whole body tensing and instinctively moving to Fink's rhythm. The devil-suited one slowed down a little, watching Billie's sweat-sheened face, mouth open and eyes shut tight, the muss of black hair clinging to his forehead. And listened to those intense yelped squeals…it was almost enough to make him lose control himself. Almost. But no, he was Fink and he had a plan to execute. Fuck the label boss senseless so he stops being mad at you.

At least, that had become the secret plan on the instant he had seen Mr. Green Day off to the side of the stage earlier…

But every time Billie tensed up, Fink found it harder and harder to keep his cool front. He was barely able to suppress his own delicious moans, and was completely unable to stop the deep gasps that ran parallel with each push, each undulation. It was all so _intoxicating._ Ah, what a wonderful plan this had been.

That cunning little smirk pulled at the corner of Fink's mouth as he continued to watch Billie, helpless in the throes of ecstasy.

Billie's head rolled from side to side, almost feeling like he was going to faint. It was almost too much. He opened his eyes briefly to see not much through the haze but for Fink's red vinyl suit, sparkling and gleaming in the light. And that intriguing ski mask. And finally, those eyes. Those dark-rimmed big hazel eyes that were so familiar… Then Billie's eyes rolled back before closing again, utterly powerless.

Billie's back arched further and further, and he could hear himself gasping, pleading for Fink to take him, finish him. Fink paused for a few seconds, allowing Billie to catch his breath. Then he shifted a tiny bit, hands moving to Billie's waist, and obliged. He pushed into Billie, thrusts following hard and fast, and he held tightly onto his body as it continued to arch, hands death-gripping the couch beneath him, before a shriek was expelled from his lungs and his hips shuddered with wild irregularity. Watching the pure, intense rapture flood Billie's face, Fink let out a barely audible chuckle, before allowing his own orgasm to tremble beautifully through him.

I win, he thought.

Minutes ticked by before Billie became coherent enough to form words.

"How did you…how…" he attempted, raising his head weakly to watch Fink as he stood up and strolled over to the dressing table, like he hadn't just had sex. Billie took a few breaths before giving up and letting his head flop back down. "You're a fucking God…"

"Thank you sir." Fink replied, smiling. He returned with a fistful of tissues and dropped them on Billie's stomach. "Clean up, when you're ready."

After a few more moments, Billie sat up and did as he was bid, too exhausted to care about how embarrassing it was for him to be sitting on a couch and wiping off his crotch. Fink had apparently taken care of himself out of view.  
When he'd discarded the tissues, he looked up to see Fink kneeling beside him on the couch, fingers entwining in his hair again.

"I think you should wear eyeliner." Fink murmured. "Your eyes are beautiful."

"Maybe I will. And likewise." Billie replied. He narrowed his eyes and tilted his head, looking at Fink directly. "I'm just wondering what the rest of you looks like. I think we should start…with that ski mask."

For the briefest of moments, Fink's devilish smile faded. Then it came back, more evil than before. He chuckled low and leaned in, pulling Billie towards him and giving him a swift, deep kiss, delving in and out of his mouth in a second.

"Okay." he drawled, pulling back a little.

Billie felt a little wary at the sudden malevolent glee that had spread across Fink's mostly obscured face, but he ignored it. The guy's weird, just go with it. He smiled a little and turned around. He reached up, taking hold of the top of the striped headwear. Billie couldn't help but feel a little thrill of excitement - finally he'd see who the hell this crazy yet hot apparent fuckbuddy was. He paused, holding his breath. Then he pulled the ski mask off.

The gasp that ripped from his lungs almost made him choke. The room began to sway as he stared. That was all he could do. Stare.

The ski mask fell to the floor.


End file.
